


Temptation Has Me Lost

by starvonnie



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, hate frag, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvonnie/pseuds/starvonnie
Summary: Starscream's at Knock Out's door again.  This would be the last time.  Probably.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of inspired by Tickets by Maroon 5. Honestly it's just a good KOSS song!

This time would be the last time.  No matter how lonely he got.  No matter how charged he got while looking at him.  Or from remembering the last time they were here, with his pedes high in the air as Starscream all but folded him in half.  Even if Starscream promised to buff out any scrapes, and even if he actually ended up going through with that promise.  This was it.

That was what Knock Out had told himself the last time.  And the time before that.  It wasn't like he even _liked_ the mech that much.  He was better than no company at best.  At worst, he was a throbbing helmache and a never-ending tangent about something that annoyed him.  Which was ironic, given how annoying he was.  He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand another Shockwave-fuelled rant without popping a gasket or spontaneously combusting.  Neither would be good for his finish.

And yet, here he was.  Locked in a glossa battle with his commander, yet again.  At least this kept him from speaking. 

Curse his attraction to seekers.  Well, to be fair, seekers weren't exactly an acquired taste.  If you asked a Cybertronian if they found seekers attractive, you'd be shocked to find one that said "no."  And even then they didn't have a distaste for them.  Simply put, it was a rare few that would deny a heated seeker at their door.

Starscream guided their familiar dance through its steps to Knock Out's berth.  Never in Starscream's quarters, no.  It would be unseemly for him to have these kinds of guests.  Unless those guests were Megatron.  Knock Out was only glad their master was rare to wander down his hall, unless there was something medically wrong with him.  Even then Knock Out sometimes had to beg to allow him to fix him.

It was easy to lose himself in the moment then, but there would be a mess to clean up after this.  Starscream never had to concern himself with the wet spot on the berth, because he never stayed.  It was preferable, of course, but it meant only Knock Out had to deal with the less fun results of interfacing.

Claws still found plating, though.  Starscream, because he knew how much Knock Out hated the scratches, which would bring about Knock Out's retaliation.  And either Starscream had grown to enjoy the roughness Megatron bestowed upon him in berth, or the mech had always had a penchant for pain.  Either way, it meant Knock Out came out scathed, and hating it, and Starscream left with more claw marks than he'd entered with.  Knock Out always wondered if he buffed them out or tried to pass them off as more of Megatron's.  He hadn't found out about their trysts yet, and it had to stay that way.  Or else the Decepticons would be short one medic.

Which was why this had to stop.  And this time it would.  There was no sense in denying himself this time, but the next time he would refuse Starscream.  He wouldn't even open the door for him.

Though Starscream's mouth on his neck was making it hard to think straight.  Or to think at all, for that matter.  He'd become a vessel of pure feeling.  Nothing but a deft seeker's glossa and his denta biting down just on the threshold of pain.

"We don't have all day," Starscream griped as he pressed impatient digits against Knock Out's panel.

He might have been more put off and gripe about the lack of foreplay if he weren't already thoroughly lubricated.  That, and the only way to make Starscream shut up was to give him what he wanted.

There was nothing careful about the way Starscream fingered him.  Nor did he seem to be trying to pleasure Knock Out.  He always did this.  Tested him.  Pushed at his calipers to see if they would resists his fingers.  This he undoubtedly learned from Megatron.  The former, anyways.  Knock Out couldn't imagine Megatron being so kind as to make sure that Starscream was ready for him.  But he had no doubt that this preparation was the result of years of being fragged by their Lord.  He was grateful that Starscream was considerate enough to not just go thrusting into him and hoping for the best.  Though it added a tinge of pity to their sessions that Knock Out could have done without.  Especially when he was trying to get away from indulging in them.

Knock Out bit back a _get on with it_ because the less words he said the less Starscream said in response and the better his helm would feel at the end of the night.  But he just wanted to get to the part where they were both grunting and not caring about who the hell was inside of him.  By then nothing mattered beyond an overload.

Missionary, Starscream had decided, was their position that night.  They never deviated from whatever they started in.  These were always quick, anyways.  It was odd, though.  The handful of times he'd chosen this had been more out of necessity than anything.  Generally there was a table involved.  When they had a berth he usually had him facing away, and Knock Out was just fine with that.  He didn't even mind when Starscream would forcibly press his face into the berth.  At least he wasn't forced to stare at his face.

So when Starscream entered him, he closed his optics.

Everything went as it always had.  They moaned when it was needed, and touched each other just enough to keep things interesting.  Starscream had mercifully stopped scratching him quite so much, but he still left enough scrapes to annoy Knock Out.  Hopefully none were in a place he had a hard time reaching.  And hopefully Starscream would actually buff him this time.

He hated how much he actually enjoyed feeling another frame against his.  He knew that was part of the reason for always letting him back in.  The loneliness.  He'd sunken so low.

Charge built up steadily enough.  What they did was rarely a frag to archive in the databanks.  It was never bad but it rarely led to a voicebox reset or multiple overloads, if he even got one.  Starscream generally helped him to climax, though.  But there had been times where he'd literally just fragged him and then left.  Without so much as a "good-bye" thrown over his shoulder.

Rude mech.

Knock Out's thought process was leading this to be a hate frag.  They so often strayed there.  But Starscream clearly wasn't in the same headspace.

Starscream sought out Knock Out's hands in the sheets.  He interlaced their digits and held on tight.  There were pricks of need dotting his otherwise lust-filled field, and something else held a little closer to his spark that Knock Out couldn't identify for the life of him.  Not that he really cared how Starscream was feeling.  The curiosity simply niggled at his processor. 

Then Starscream did something he'd never done before.  He stared right into Knock Out's optics. 

Now, they'd never set any restrictions for their frag sessions, and it wasn't like he was opposed to this sort of thing.  If anything, he was kind of enjoying it?  There was something about locking gazes with the bot he was fragging.  But he generally reserved it for bots he actually cared about, and Starscream had never been the sappy type.  And yet, here he was.  Holding his hands, no less.  A candid shot of them would have the photographer misreading their relationship. 

Starscream's wings started to flutter.  Just a little bit.  It was something he couldn't help when he neared overload.  Even then, he wasn't looking away.  Was he trying to intimidate him?  No.  There was no reason to, and if he was he was doing a piss poor job.  So why?

He could look away.  That was a thing he could do.  No one was forcing him to keep optic contact.  But for some reason, he just couldn't.

Starscream's strangely arousing shriek from overload was muffled as he pressed his lips to Knock Out's.  Again, not a restriction, but they rarely kissed during.  Especially when they overloaded.  And again, it was nice, but that didn't stop it from being weird.  Weirder still, it seemed to set off Knock Out's overload.  Muffled against soft seeker lips.

They finally broke apart, panting, their mouths still close enough for another kiss if they so desired.  But Starscream just held himself there.  Still inside Knock Out.  Just lingering above him.  Was he sick? 

"Do you want me to buff you?" Starscream asked quietly.  His lips were still close enough that when he spoke they brushed Knock Out's.  There was something terribly intimate about that.  Worse still, it send a shiver up Knock Out's spinal strut.

"Please."  

Knock Out didn't stop himself from indulging in one last kiss.  Since Starscream was still there.  It turned into more of a make-out session than anything, but Knock Out still hesitated to call it that.  These kisses were more drawn out and chaste.  Like they were just enjoying the act of kissing.  Which he was.  And it made his tank churn because he was warring with how he _should_ feel, and what he was _actually_ feeling.

He was relieved when Starscream finally broke them apart.

He walked to Knock Out's washracks, as usual, with Knock Out on his tail, and grabbed the buffer and got to work.  So he finally went through with his promise, but only the spots Knock Out was incapable of reaching.  Once he was finished his back, he handed the buffer to Knock Out and left.  He couldn't complain too much.  It was more than he usually did.  But he still grumbled as he did it.  Especially when one particular scratch refused to buff away.  It was starting to look like he'd have to replace the whole headlight. 

Giving up and resigning himself to fixing it in the morning, Knock Out put the buffer away and went back out to his berthroom, only to stop when he saw Starscream still there.  In his berth, no less.  Already tucked under the blanket.

"Well?" Starscream snapped.  "Are you coming to berth or not?"

 Knock Out just stared at him. 

"Did all that buffing fry your processor?" Starscream griped.

"No, I..."  He was truly at a loss for words.

" _What_?"

Knock Out didn't want to argue about this.  He had been tired before Starscream got there, and interfacing had only served to make his optic covers that much heavier.  So he flicked off the light  and crossed the room to the berth, climbing in beside the mech he thought he'd only share a berth with if Megatron ever took a liking to him.  So, hopefully, never.

About the only in-character thing he was doing then was leaving Knock Out on the side with the wet spot.  It was pretty easy to ignore, though.  Knock Out hadn't realized how much he missed falling into recharge in someone else's arms.  True, they didn't give him that feeling of protection that Breakdown's had, but there was a solid mass of warmth on his back, and ventilations tickling the nape of his neck.  And the commander had to keep silent if either of them expected to actually sleep.

Frag it all.  This wouldn't be the last time.


End file.
